The Holland Road
by SleepToGrow
Summary: "This is a joke right? Werewolves, Kanima's and psychotic hunters and it's a god damn deer that's going to kill me!"


HOLAND ROAD

"_So I was lost, go count the cars,__  
__Before you go to the Holland Road,__  
__With your heart like a stone you spare no time in lashing out,__  
__And I knew your pain and the effect of my shame, but you cut me down, you cut me down,"_

He hurts. His entire being hurts unlike anything he's ever experienced, mind still hurting from the conversation just had minutes ago, body hurting from being jostled around in his jeep as it rolled until finally coming to a stop. The wheels are in the air and he's hanging at and awkward angle from his seat, a ringing, sharp in his ears, not fading away for an alarmingly long time. He blacked out, he's knows he did because he doesn't know what happened after hitting the deer, doesn't know how long he's been here hanging upside down. And he knows he should feel something like terror, but his mind feels nothing, his thoughts aren't fully there, he's not fully there. He's in pain, yes, but his mind is just numb. Opening his heavy eyelids he takes in the situation, it feels as if his brain is pounding against his skull trying to break it open, whether it be from him being upside down for, who knows how long, or the accident in general he doesn't know. He just knows that he hurts and that he's upside down, and that– Holy God, that the _bone _in his freaking arm is sticking out from ripped and bloodied skin, angled back toward his seat in a way he can only call unnatural. That's when the numbness leaves, that's when his heart starts to really pound hard against his chest because this… this is real, that bone, _his _bone, is fucking real. His eyes start to blur with unshed tears. Blinking they drip down his forehead, into his hairline and he turns away from the image, pressing his right cheek against the seat. A pain so unbearably sharp rips through his entire face causing him to let out a shallow whine, and more tears fall, stinging as they slide into open cuts across his forehead. His breathing becomes shallow; it feels like someone has tied a string tightly around his lungs, constricting his amount of air. A wet cough explodes from his mouth bringing along with it a warm liquid, holding his good armed hand up to his mouth all he can think is "This is a joke right? Werewolves, Kanima's and psychotic hunters and it's a god damn _deer _that's going to kill me?!" When he looks back at his hand it's covered in blood, he coughed up blood. That's… not good. In every movie he's seen, nothing good ever follows coughing up blood, usually the people die. Another cough comes and _fuck_ his ribs hurt. He hears something then, a women yelling, and then a bunch of car doors opening and closing. Something above him drips down onto his neck, awesome, because he really needs it to rain right now. B-but it couldn't be raining because its summer, in freaking California. The drops come faster now, causing the liquid to trail down his neck over his chin and- oh fuck, gasoline. Gasoline is fucking dripping onto him now. Moaning desperately he goes to try and unbuckle his seatbelt that is, of course stuck. His arm and ribs and head and everything just hurt so god damn bad he wants to throw up. The smell of gas grows stronger making him nauseous as he continues to struggle with his belt. He hears a scream then and feels an incredible heat against his back. Black thick smoke fills his vision almost instantly. Everything starts to swim and he feels as if he's floating, lungs burning. The screams sound far away now, like he's under water. His own cough echoes in his ears and he can't breathe anymore, it's too much. The last thing he thinks before blacking out is "_A fucking deer, really_?"

When he opens his eyes next he's inside what he guess's is the back of an ambulance, a woman with dark hair his leaning over him, stroking his head as she adjust the mask on his face. He tries to ask what happened but all that comes out is a raspy moan that burns in his throat.

"Shh shh honey, you're ok." The woman whispers "You're doing good, you're safe. It's ok to sleep." But as the pain of everything that has just happened sinks in he starts to cry and try and move. Her arm reaches over him for something and then he feels something warm run through his veins and his heart feels like it's about to burst from his chest, he grows dizzy and numb, eyes becoming heavy. She smiles a really sad depressing smile. He's tired now, but seeing that smile before he blacks out scares the shit out of him.

"_I don't get you," Stiles mumbles into his hands that are covering his face from frustration. _

"_You don't have to," growls Derek from somewhere behind him. Scrubbing at is face one last time Stiles lets out a long sigh and turns to face Derek. Derek who's face is hard and cold with eyes even colder. It makes him take in a sharp breath and his heart pound hard against his rib cage. He and Derek really never got along, but they had started to gain a strange understanding and respect for each other, close to friends even. Or so Stiles had thought. The look on Derek's face right now is one he has never seen, not directed at him not directed at Peter no even directed to Chris Argent. It hurts him more than scares him, because the look that he's giving him is one of pure hatred and disgust. He's so shocked by it that his eyes start to water a bit; but no, no he will _not _cry in front of Derek Hale. Ever since Gerard Argent Stiles swore that he would never let himself feel that helpless and weak again. He would never let anyone see him beaten and bruised, weak and, and just utterly _pathetic _again. Especially not Derek. Closing his eyes he takes in a long breath sets his face as hard and unwelcoming as he can make it, clenching his jaw tight. _

"_Yea I do actually, because, as much as you seem to hate it at times, you're in my life. And it's confusing and… and just generally fucking frustrating when you're fucking me one day and hating me the next. I. Don't. Get. You." He says hard. "I've literally done nothing but help you out for our entire relationship, or whatever. I held you above water in a pool for hours you–" He's so angry now that he can't even think straight " you fucking _dick!_" Derek is still, and in the quietness leftover from his rant he realizes that he had gotten closer to Derek, so close that he could wrap him into a hug if he wanted. But he didn't want to even touch Derek unless it was to punch him in is stupidly perfect face, so he backed up significantly. Derek's jaw was tight with anger, Stiles knew that he pushed him far, but he was tired of Derek's broody "I hate the world" bullshit. He was tired of feeling completely worthless to a person that he had come to truly care about._

"_I don't hate you," Derek says, sounding frustrated. He's stupid enough to ignore the _way_ Derek had said it, and just focused on _what _he had said. His heart gave a hopeful leap at the words but then Derek continued "I loathe you." he spat, and okay wow where the _fuck _did he get off? Stiles opened his mouth to say just that but Derek pushed on. "I loathe your stupid babbling and your constant need to get in the way of things, and your overall uselessness to me. I fucked you because you wanted it and I wanted to have sex with someone. It could have been anyone it didn't matter; it was sex and nothing else. You're stupid if you thought any different." Stiles hurt now, and he knew that a tear had fell because never, in is whole life has anyone talked to him like that before. And never had he expected Derek to talk to him like that. Yea maybe Stiles shouldn't have done what he did but he never thought in a millions years, that Derek would hate him for it. When they were together, _really _together, Derek was always careful and gentle with Stiles. In a way that made him think that he was important, irreplaceable. He had always thought that Derek had truly wanted him, but as it turns out he was just another fuck for Derek. He was sad and angry and confused now, he didn't know what to say, so he just stood there for a long moment embarrassed at himself for thinking that he and Derek actually had _something_ even if it was the tiniest something ever. He sniffed loud, trying to hold back tears,_

"_What the hell is wrong with you?" He spat, and left the old Hale house feeling utterly and completely defeated._

He hears Stiles' jeep coming from a mile away; werewolf or not anyone would be able to pick up on the rumble of that engine. He sighs frustrated, not at Stiles but at himself. The way he had reacted when he had found Stiles at his family's grave, on the anniversary of their deaths, absolutely disgusted him. But he couldn't help reacting the way he had, he and Stiles were getting too close, _he _was getting too… happy. He cares for Stiles, a lot, and it scares him, and to see him standing there with his eyes bright and filled with understanding and sorrow just for Derek felt… wrong. Because he didn't deserve to have Stiles, who's so _good _and perfect, looking at him like that. Didn't deserve his understanding and comfort because in the end it was _his fault_. He is the reason his entire family is dead, and he doesn't deserve to be happy or ok or to have anyone care for him again. He deserves, he _needs_ to suffer for his faults. So he had yelled and screamed at Stiles to leave, that it was none of his business or his place to be there. Stiles had just smiled sadly squeezing Derek's hand and left. He had stayed all day and cried. And when he got home, he had to remind himself that nothing good lasts with him. People either get hurt or leave, either way he hast to let Stiles go, because Stiles deserves better than him. And Derek deserves to be alone as a constant punishment for what he had done to his family. He hears as the jeep comes to a stop outside, hears the slam of the door and the crunch of Stiles' footsteps on the gravel. He knows that he's here to apologize, can feel the regret and confusion wafting off of Stiles. That's why he has to let him go, to push him away. Stiles is too good for him, and it's going to hurt because he cares about Stiles even… even might love him, but he has to do this. So he straitens his shoulders and waits for Stiles to walk through the door, trying to ready himself to again loose someone he loves.

"What is wrong with you?" Stiles spits out, another tear falls onto his cheek, face flushed with anger. He turns then and walks out, slamming the door loud behind him. As soon as Stiles had gotten into his jeep Derek ran, ran into the woods fully shifted, crazed with guilt and sadness. He ran hard and fast, paws bleeding as they pushed into the harsh ground, cut by rocks and twigs. All he can think about is Stiles. His face when he told him that he loathed him, the way it palled and the way his eyes had rounded in shock, and how sad and completely broken he looked. The way is heart skipped a beat with hope when Derek had said that he didn't hate him. And the sour stench of Stiles' scent in the moment that he hated _him_. A loud howl was ripped from his throat then, just the idea of Stiles hating him made him sick. Stopping to catch his breath and whine absently the smell of smoke made his nose twitch. Ever since the fire he sometimes thought he'd caught a wiff of smoke, like his senses were constantly reminding him to remember. But this, this was strong and real and very close by. He started running toward it and as he got closer he heard screams and sirens in the distance. Reaching the edge of the forest Derek looked down at the wreck on the road and threw up. That was Stiles' jeep that the flames were engulfing, and that was Stiles' burnt and broken body the Firemen were pulling out of it. His wolfed whined and howled and he ran. He ran so damn fast that his body scraped along sides of trees, uncoordinated and unseeing of anything but Stiles. He didn't even know if he was alive but he couldn't stop. He ran for hours, he knows because when he finally and painfully shifts back he realizes it's black out with nothing but the moonlight above. He's naked and cold on his back in the middle of nowhere; crying so hard he feels like his lungs are being ripped out of him. This was his fault. Why does everyone he loves need to die?

His dad, he knew because he could feel the wedding band on his father's finger biting into his skin as his hand squeezed his own tightly, sucked in a harsh breath when he blinked open his eyes, but he couldn't look at him right away, not yet. So he focused on a black spec on the ceiling above him. Counting to ten, he turned his head to face his father. Face flushed and eyes wet with tears; his hand gripping Stiles' so tight that it hurt. "Jesus kid," his dad said through tears, "I-I thought I lost you. Damn it Genim, god damn it," his father cried and laid his head down on Stiles' chest for a brief moment, catching his breath. His father looked back up at him, his own face wet with tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. His dad shook his head and gave him a small smile.

"Kid you do that again I'll kill ya, you scared the crap out of me." Sighing he let go of his hand.

"Ok."

"And… and you're grounded,"

"Ok"

"-for the rest of your natural born life." Said his father absently, waving a hand in the air. Stiles smiled then, and his dad smiled back.

He barley sleeps that night, the pain of the burns that cover his right shoulder and neck feel hot and itchy; he can feel his pulse beat throughout his entire left arm. His face has a total of 38 stiches

scattered over his cheeks and forehead, his 2 broken ribs make breathing a bitch and his whole body is pounding but the only thing that's hurting him most right now, is the memory of Derek's words. Sighing angrily at himself for even thinking about Derek he presses the button that shoots up his body with awesome drugs, and tries desperately not to picture a certain face as he passes out.

The next day Scott comes to visit. He comes into the room, face sad and nudges at Stiles' good leg. "You idiot." He grumbles. Looking up at Scott he smiles guiltily,

"Actually there was a deer involved; I had the right of way so I'm not the one at fault here. I'm thinking I might sue actually." Scott laughed then and sat at the end of the bed, pushing Stiles' legs over for room. He winces slightly at the pain in his knee. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Scott staring sadly at him. It was starting to piss him off, he really didn't need any pity right now, so he broke the awkward silence, "So not that I'm not happy to see you or anything buddy, but ah I'm assuming you didn't just come here to sit and stare at me… unless you did. Which, okay cool- weird but cool, if you're gunna do that though maybe do it from a chair cause I'm feeling a little loopy from these drugs and these beds are really damn small, so the more room the better... ya know?" He nudges his foot against Scott's thigh for emphasis. Scott blinks a few times before getting up and moving to, what Stiles has come to know as his "Dad's chair", and just resumes staring. Okay then. He rolls his eyes and looks directly into Scott's puppy dog ones, "Seriously dude, quit it with the sad staring, I'm not gunna die okay? Or maybe I will since I have to be stuck in the shitty place for another two weeks, who knows? My point, stop freaking staring at me like I'm the most pathetic thing in the world, okay!" He didn't even realize had been yelling until he stopped and the quietness in the room sunk in.

"Okay… sorry." Scott looks down at his hands, "and I don't think you're pathetic. I've never thought that." He says quietly. Now Stiles is staring, guilty for yelling like a jerk. He's not mad, not at Scott but he's here and Stiles is taking his anger out on him, not cool. Shaking his head he huffs out a breath and looks at the ceiling, focusing on that black spec.

"I hate this place."

"Yea,"

"It smells like clorox or some other stupid cleaning agent… and it's cold. Like it is always so freaking cold in this room and the blankets are so itchy and thin that I can't even ask for an extra one because it'd just be the most pointless thing ever. And these stupid fucking walls are like, chipped and faded and who the _fuck _wants to stare at a pale green wall all day? And like honestly, whoever makes the food here needs to find another profession because it taste like shit…"

"The food can't that bad, I mean don't you get like free jello or something? That's good shit." Stiles laughs then, a real laugh and turns to smile at Scott, who's sporting a dopy grin. They talk for a few hours after that with no more pity stares or angry rants. Scott doesn't once bring up Derek, because yea, he knows that's where Stiles was, he knows not to talk about it because, sure Scott can be a little dumb sometimes, but he is his best friend. He knows Stiles better than anybody.

When Scott visits the next day he lays a quilt that he brought from home down over Stiles and drops a bag filled with Resses candy and Sour Patch Kids and other types of junk onto the bedside table.

He knows that Stiles isn't dead. He also now knows that Stiles has a broken arm, two broken ribs, and a second degree burn covering his right side from hip all the way to his neck. He knows that Stiles' left knee needed surgery and that he might not ever be able to play lacrosse again. He knows all this because Scott told him, came by with his face angry and voice hard and accusing. His scent reeking of hospital. He pushed at him angrily, and Derek let him, because he deserved it. "What the hell did you do to him?" Scott had yelled, "I stayed out of your guys' weird relationship because I could tell that for some reason it was making Stiles happy, until a the other day when I found him in his room all sad and blaming himself over something you had said to him!" Scott's eyes were tear filled now "HE'S A GOOD DRIVER! He's avoided stupid frigging deer before and _never _almost died because of it! His mom died in a car accident… he's always, _always_ been a careful driver!" Scott pushed harder at his chest then, causing Derek fall to the ground. "What did you say to him?!" He growled.

He's standing outside the Hospital now, a few days after Scott had come to see him. It's unusually cold for a summer day in California, wind biting at his nose, hands clenched tight with frustration in his pockets. He stands there for a long time, people walking by not even sparing him a glance. He wants to go in so badly. To hold Stiles against his chest and bury his face into the crook of his neck, he wants to keep him warm and breathe in his scent. To heal his wounds and take away his pain. But he can't, he can't because he has no right, not anymore. The doors to the front entrance slide open and he sees Scott walking out with Allison and Isaac, Scott's head bowed and hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. Allison's arms are crossed, face tired looking and sad. Isaac looks like he's trying not to cry, looking over at the other two. Their faces make his heart clench with guilt and worry, how bad is Stiles really? Allison notices him first, she glares hard and accusing then tugs on Scott's arm. He looks up confused until he spots Derek standing only a few feet away. His face grows angry as he strides over. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?" he growls, and Derek can't help but let his eyes bleed red and snarl back. Isaac whimpers quietly at that, because Derek is still his Alpha.

"I wasn't going to go in," he bit out. "I just… I just wanted…" he trailed off quietly. Why was he here? He knew he wouldn't- _couldn't_ go in, and he was too far to get anything off Stiles, not even his heartbeat.

"You just wanted what?" Scott said, voice still angry,

"I don't –"

"He doesn't want to see you Derek." Allison broke in. "So just…" she sighed, "just back off okay?" He shot a quick glance at the door before turning quick on his heel and walking away.

Scott Allison and Isaac come to visit a few days later, he's arguing with a nurse over the stash of candy Scott had given him when they all shuffle in, Allison holding a huge bouquet of flowers and Isaac carrying a "Get Well Soon" balloon. He breaks out into a huge grin at that. "Friends!" he opens his arms wide in welcoming, a bit too doped up on drugs to feel anything in his broken arm. Isaac smiles wide and comes to his side immediately, hugging Stiles as best he can and… sniffing and nuzzling at his neck, and okay wow licking it. "Woah woah there big guy," he laughs out "no licking, bad dog." Isaac pulls away; face a little flushed with embarrassment.

"Sorry." He mumbles out.

"Awe no worries buddy, I know I'm pretty irresistible." He gives him a dopy grin because well, drugs. "Scotty boy! You brought oh Warrior Princess with you!" Allison laughs and comes over to his side, nudging away a very clingy Isaac, and presses a kiss to his cheek.

"How are you feeling," she smiles.

"Good, awesome, superb!" He laughs lightly and rolls his head to the side. "Hey! Bossy nurse escaped unnoticed taking my goods with her!" he shouts angrily. "Scott man, go chase her down, threaten her if you must but retrieve my Resses'!" He giggles a bit then, man drugs are _awesome_.

"Jeeze dude, they've got you really doped up today hu?" He raises a questioning eyebrow at him, because he knows the only reason they'd drug him up is if he had started acting out. And yea okay maybe he had gotten a bit loud with his morning nurse who had tried to get him talking by thinking, "Oh hey let's bring up his love life as a great conversation starter!" psh, stupid nurse... stupid nonexistent love life, stupid Derek hot face Hale and his stupid dumb words. Everyone was staring at him now and, yup he had said that out load. "Stiles," Scott says carefully. "What happened when you went to see Derek that day?"

"Stuff." Stiles sniffed loudly. Allison looked over at Scott who nodded slightly and she sits down on the bed next to him.

"Did…" she takes a shaky breath, "did he say something to you, or hurt you at all? Scott said you two had fought and that's why you were going to see him right? If he caused the-"

"He didn't get me into a car accident Allison. A deer did." He says angrily

"Of course, no you're right… but did he physically hurt you or, or something?"

"Or something…" he whispers. Isaac comes around to his other side then and starts nuzzling against his neck again. He is the most sensitive to picking up on peoples moods, Derek had said once that it was probably from being abused by his Father before… well before. And right now, Stiles' sadness level must be pretty high because Isaac is whining softly against his neck. He doesn't even realize that he is crying until Allison looks at him softly and carefully wipes away a tear. "Look," he sucks in a breath "Yea Derek said something, but it was stuff I should have already- It was just shit that I should've known ok? I was stupid in thinking that we had anything more that sex going on and, maybe I was too involved or whatever okay? So I fucked up, and Derek pointed that out in the worst, most fucking embarrassing way possible because he's an emotionally constipated ass hole." He closes his eyes, "I wasn't thinking, I was angry and I just wanted to get away from him. I drove off to fast and…. and maybe I started to have a panic attack and didn't see fucking Bambi jump out in front of me okay?" He feels hands cup his face then and opens his eyes to see Isaac holding him, black veins moving up his arms and disappearing under his sleeve, taking away pain. His pain. Isaac's eyes started to grow wet with tears and Stiles jerks away, "Stop it, I don't need you to help me. This pain, this anger, it's mine okay? I'm not going to let you feel it for me." Isaac didn't say anything, just nodded slightly and looked over at Scott, Scott who was standing stiff and face angry. He sighed, "Just leave it man, all he did was tell me the truth. And yea he said it in the worst way possible but… but I'm done with him okay? I don't need- I don't _want_ to see him and he doesn't want to see me. So just leave it, I don't want to talk or think about him. I just want to get better and get out of here. I want to go to school and get my knee better so I can play again, cause let's face it you guys totally need me to win the rest of the season, I want to graduate and just continue my normal… well slightly normal, werewolves and all, life."

Over the next week Lydia, Jackson and Erica come to visit. Jackson comes more than once on his own. They're friends now, after Jackson had turned he went to Stiles for help with control because a) He didn't trust _or _like Derek b) He knew that Stiles had helped Scott when he was bitten and c) Stiles was just an awesome werewolf Yoda. He sometimes brings him in his homework if Scott or his Dad can't, they talk about lacrosse or how his control is going. When Lydia comes she brings Stiles a huge teddy bear, which okay cute and thoughtful, but he's so not a girl, and he tells her as much. She just laughs a little and says that the bear made her think of him and kisses his cheek. Erica only stays long enough to comment on how his hair has grown out a lot and to ask how he's doing. An annoying thought crosses his mind after she leaves wondering if maybe Derek had sent her. His Dad comes in whenever he isn't working, and when he is Melissa comes in for as long as she can to keep him company. He's grateful for that, because the last thing he wants right now is to be alone, when he is alone all he has are his thoughts. And all his thoughts consist of, no matter how bad he doesn't want them too, is Derek. Derek, who he _knew_ had heard about his accident, hadn't come to see him once. He was angry and grateful for that all at once.

Stiles was supposed to be getting out of the Hospital tomorrow night, and Derek didn't know what he was going to do. The instinct to go see him, to just easily slip into his room and hold him tightly against his chest, would be so strong. He should leave, he knows he should, but he can't right now, not with his pack still in school and he can't even bear the thought of leaving without seeing Stiles one last time. The last month that Stiles was in the hospital he hadn't really slept at all, and right now it was early in the night and he was laying on his mattress, holding a sweater of Stiles' that he had left here a few months ago, against himself. Breathing in his scent and trying to relax, to sleep. It wasn't enough though, he needed more of Stiles. He got up then, pulled on a shirt and shoes and started running towards the Stilinski residence. He knew that the Sherriff had the night shift tonight so the house would be empty.

He finally reached the house, wasting no time in climbing up the tree conveniently placed in front of Stiles' bedroom window and slipping in through it, unlocked. He stood for a minute, just taking everything in. The room smelt unused and dusty, but Stiles' scent was there, stronger than the sweater that Derek had of his. He moved towards the bed and sat down, toeing off his shoes and pulling back the heavy quilt that lay atop it. Crawling under he buried his face into the pillow, body slowly draining of tension. He passed out fast, more relaxed than he'd been in a month.

"Guess what kid?" His dad comes into his room carrying a bag and smiling bright. "You're getting released tonight instead of tomorrow!"

"What seriously, why? Is it because I'm so awesome? It's because I'm so awesome isn't it? Hey wait aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Ah yea I do have to go in tonight but I have enough time to come pick you up and bring ya home," His farther looked down at his hands then with a guilty expression. "I'm sorry but I won't be able to, uh, hang out with you tonight. But maybe you could call Scott or Isaac to stay the night? I made you some dinner though; it's in the fridge…" Stiles isn't going to lie, he's sad that he's going to have to go home to an empty house, and he can't call either of the two friends or Jackson even because they're all out at an away game tonight. But his dad doesn't need to know that so he just smiles and clears his throat,

"Yea, no worries Dad, it's totally cool."

"Alright… well I brought you some clothes. Just get changed while I talk with your Doctor and we can head out."

They pull up into the driveway and, my God he's never been so happy to see his house. His dad helps walk him to the door and gives him a quick pat on the back before turning around to get back into the cruiser and head to work. Sighing he goes inside; the house is dark and quiet and looks as if no one has been in it for a few months. It smells stale and unlived in. His father has been working overtime at the station ever since Stiles got into the accident, trying to pay off _his_ hospital bills, and honestly, he probably hasn't been home more than a couple times to just sleep. He closes his eyes then, the guilt he has for making his father work harder than he already did, was heavy. He huffed and headed straight for his room, passing by the kitchen because he really wasn't hungry and made his way up the stairs slowly because _shit _his knee hurt. Stopping once he reached the top he stretched out his leg and heard a loud pop, cringing he limped the rest of the way to his bedroom. Everything was covered in darkness minus the square of moonlight that shone onto his floor, slightly illuminating his desk and nothing else. He dropped the bag he was carrying at his feet, not bothering with the light he went to go sit at his desk, flicking on the lamp. When his room was lite he didn't jump or gasp in shock at the sight of Derek laying in his bed, chest falling slow and heavy, deep in sleep. And uh, wow he must be tired because normally dropping a freaking feather would have him on alert. He just sat there for a moment staring at him confused and angry. He knew that he should wake him up and kick him out, but instead he just keeps sitting there, staring. Never, not once in the whole time he and Derek had started sleeping together had he actually seen Derek asleep. Usually he would stay, arms wrapped around Stiles tight, face buried in the crook of his neck, Stiles always being the one to fall asleep first, and to always be the one waking up to an empty bed. Yea he was angry and bitter at Derek, and maybe had a moment where he had hated him, but now… now he just missed him, and he wanted to take in this _one _moment. To take in the peaceful look on Derek's face and the quietness of his breathing, to just watch him before everything went to shit. So he sat there selfishly and stupidly for who knows how long.

After a while his eyes started to grow heavy and his healing burns were hurting and knee throbbing and just when he was about to get up, a very loud version of "Hungry like the Wolf" started blaring form his phone, and wow that ringtone seemed a lot funnier when he played it for Scott. Derek's eyes opened and he shot out of the bed with a confused snarl, looking around frantic until his eyes landed on Stiles. His face goes from shocked to almost sad looking for a moment and Stiles swears he see's something like regret pass over his too before it becomes cold and hard again. They stare at each other, phone still ringing until finally Stiles flips it open to answer, "Yea?" he sighs,

"Hey kid, just checking up on you. Did you eat at all?"

"I'm fine, and I uh, wasn't that hungry so…" He replies, eyes never leaving Derek's.

"Alright, well you should probably eat something before you head to bed… Doctor's orders and all that."

"Will do,"

"Right, well I'll see you tomorrow. Good night."

"Night," Still looking at Derek he shuts his phone. Derek stares back hard, and no freaking way is he looking away first, because he is so not the one who creepily climbed in through a window and slept in someone else's bed, so he stares back just as hard. "What are you doing here," He says, making sure his voice is void of any emotion, even though he knows his heartbeat will be giving away anything he's truly feeling. Stupid werewolves. Derek blinked and looked down at his hands.

"I don't… I don't really know." Stiles' hands were in fists now, and he closed his eye with a frustrated sigh.

"Well I don't either, so get out." He tried to sound angry, really he did but his voice came out in a broken whisper. Derek looked up then and Stiles averted his gaze.

"I lied to you." He looked at Derek then, confused and eyebrows drawn together.

"What?" he breathed out heavily.

"I lied to you." there was a long pause,

"What?"

"I lied, I never slept with you because you were just there and easy, I slept with you because I wanted too, and I wanted to be with you. And it was_ because_ of your constant talking and you're smile and the way you throw yourself into anything for the ones you love that made me want you. And your eyes, god every time I look into them I feel like I can't breathe in the best way possible. I wanted to, no, I _want_ to be with you because you are everything that I can never be, and I said what I said to hurt you so you would hate me and move on to find someone better because that's what you deserve. You were all I could think about anymore, and that's fine because you're all I _wanted_ to think about. But it scared me. Hell it still scares me, but I love you. I love you like I never thought I would love anything again. And it's ok if you don't feel the same, I get it I mean, why would you after what I said? I just don't want it to be like this between us anymore. I can't stand the thought of you hating me, can't bare it when you won't even look me in the eyes anymore without anger. I want us to be together in any way you want; we could try and be friends, because anything less, anything without you in my life at all will kill me. You are all I've ever wanted... all that I'll ever want. Please Stiles, say you forgive me."

Stiles' eyes were wet with unshed tears, staring at Derek with such a broken look that his heart felt as if it was being ripped in two. Stiles closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath as tears slowly started to fall.

"I… I love you too. You know I do." Derek couldn't breathe, his heart was beating hard against his chest, he took a step forward but Stiles held up a hand. "But, I don't trust you after what you did. I don't even know if I can forgive you yet. After…" he clears is throat. "After what you said to me, I had never felt so pathetic and- and _broken_ in my life. Not since my Mother died." He paused for a long moment. "All I've ever wanted is to see you happy Derek. You cannot keep blaming yourself for what happened to your family, you can't let it dictate your entire life. It wasn't your fault! Stop fucking punishing yourself, you are allowed to be happy, and you could have been! We could have been happy together because believe it or not Derek, I wanted to be with you! I didn't care that you were angry and broken and completely fucked up because so am I, and I felt less fucked up when I was with you. You made me happy and made me feel safe and okay. I want to make you feel the same but I can't do that if you won't let me! I love you I do but I just need time to forgive you okay? I just… I want to… I can't be with you if I'm still angry at you, if you really do love me you'll give me time to start learning how to be okay without you." Derek wouldn't look at him, not now… he couldn't. He had ruined the one good thing he had in his life, and even though he knew that Stiles was allowing him a second chance in the future he couldn't stop the pain in his chest, the way his throat went dry and couldn't stop the slight shake in his hands, because that's just it, it's a second chance in the fucking _future_. He didn't even know how much time Stiles needed, if he could even stay away from him, but he had to try. He _would_ try, because this was Stiles and he loved him and sometimes you have to let the people you love go. He nodded and felt a tear fall down his cheek, he didn't use the window instead he brushed right by Stiles toward the door but was stopped by a sudden hand on his wrist, "I don't blame you, you know?" Derek blinked, "For the accident." He couldn't help it then, he turned and pressed a light kiss to Stiles' forehead, hovering for too long. Then he turned and left, for once through the front door.


End file.
